u're going."

"John Haskell, Fifth Pennsylvania, with dispatches from General Meade to
General Pleasanton. They're tremendously important, too, and I've got to
be in a hurry."

"More haste less speed. You know the old saying. In a time like this
it's sometimes better for a man to know where he's going than it is to
get there, 'cause he may arrive at the wrong place."

"Good logic, comrade, but I must hurry just the same. Which is my best
way to find General Pleasanton?"

"Southwest. But I'm bound to tell you a few things first."

"All right. What are they?"

"You and I must be kinsfolk."

"How do you make that out?"

"Because my name is William Haskell, and I belong to the Fifth
Pennsylvania, the same regiment that you do."

"Is that so? It's strange that we haven't met before. But funny things
happen in war."

"So they do. Awfully funny. Now my brother's name is John Haskell,
and you happen to be carrying his canteen, but you've changed looks a lot
in the last few days, Brother John."

Haskell's voice had been growing more menacing, and Harry, with native
quickness, was ready to act. When he saw the man's pistol flash from his
belt he went over the side of his horse and the bullet whistled where
his body had been. His own rifle cracked in reply, but Haskell's horse,
not he, took the bullet, and, screaming with pain and fright, ran into
the woods as the rider slipped from his back.

Harry, realizing that his peril was imminent and deadly, fired one of his
pistols at the second man, who fell from his horse, too badly wounded in
the shoulder to take any further part in the fight.

But Harry found in Haskell an opponent worthy of all his skill and
courage. The Union soldier threw himself upon the ground and fired at
Harry's horse, which instantly jerked the bridle from his hand and fled
as the other had done. Harry dropped flat in the grass and leaves and
listened, his heart thumping.

But luck had favored him again. He lay in a slight depression and any
bullet fired at him would be sure to go over him unless he raised his
head. He could not see his enemies, but he could depend upon his
wonderful power of hearing, inherited and cultivated, which gave him an
advantage over his opponents.

He heard the wounded man groan ever so lightly, and then the other
whisper to him, "Are you much hurt, Bill?" The reply came in a moment:
"My right shoulder is put out for the time, and I can't help you